


A visit to Kastellet

by lwise2019



Series: Mikkel's Story [24]
Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:00:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22757413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lwise2019/pseuds/lwise2019
Summary: Mikkel sets forth to seek the cure at Kastellet, but he will never not be a babysitter.
Series: Mikkel's Story [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1536739
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	A visit to Kastellet

It was not so simple as deciding and just walking out the door, of course. There were the non-immunes to consider. He would not take them with him into danger so they would have to stay in the tank until he returned after several hours, and if he didn't want to clean the chamberpot, he needed to escort them to the latrine before he left. When he offered without explaining his motives, they readily agreed.

From the beginning of the expedition he had dreaded the prospect of escorting Tuuri, but thanks to their fortuitous adoption of the kitten, the situation was much less fraught than he had anticipated. Standing a dozen meters beyond their primitive latrine, he scanned the surroundings before him and to either side, confident that he need not look back towards Tuuri as the kitten would give the alarm if anything came from that direction. Once she was back in the tank and he escorted Reynir, modesty was less of a concern but he thought the younger man too appreciated being given some privacy.

At last he thought his duties had been carried out and he could be considered to be off-duty. He surveyed the interior of the tank with a critical eye: was he missing anything? Ah, the kitten, curled up on her blanket. He was immune to the Rash, of course, but not to physical attack. It would help to have her along to watch his back. “Come over here, kitten,” he said, scooping her up and dropping her in a pocket, “we're going for a walk.”

“Ah — you changed your mind?” Tuuri asked uncertainly.

“You could say that, yes. I had time to think — and I see no reason why I should be required to wait for Sigrun when I'm _perfectly capable_ of inspecting a location without aid.” That came out more harshly than he intended; Sigrun's dismissive attitude rankled more than he'd consciously realized.

“Yes! Exactly! Let's go!” the Finn cried, leaping from her seat and starting for the door.

“No,” he answered, blocking her with one large hand, “you are safer here. Keep the door closed and wait for my return.”

“So, what!?” she asked, deflated. “You get to break the rules but we don't?”

“I'm doing no such thing. _I_ haven't been ordered by anyone to stay, but I'm ordering you to. Have a good day.” He opened the door.

“Hold on!” Tuuri grabbed him by both shoulders, having to reach up rather far to do so, given the disparity in their heights. “You _are_ breaking the rules if you go. You can't leave two non-immune people alone in the field without an immune person around for protection.”

Mikkel was taken aback for a moment. Technically she was right about the rule, but as a practical matter, if anything turned up that could endanger them inside the tank, it would certainly be far beyond his ability to defend them. In that case he'd be as useless as — 

He looked down at Tuuri, who was now smiling triumphantly. “There is your guard,” he said, pointing at her sleeping cousin. “Keep each other entertained during my absence.” And he was out the door before she could raise further objections.

He had only just closed the door and turned to go when he put his hands in his pocket and discovered that the kitten was missing. Looking around hastily, he concluded that she had jumped out inside the tank and was not lost outside. Rather than face Tuuri again, he decided to simply go on. It was a bright, sunny day, quite a bit colder than the previous day, so he just had to check his backtrail frequently, he thought, and he'd be safe enough. He set forth across the plaza.

* * *

Clambering over or detouring around collapsed walls, ducking under branches that had grown unchecked across the roads, pausing to study open doors and windows with alert suspicion, Mikkel still had time to argue the case back and forth in his mind. There had been no cured survivors — well, that could be explained by the vast number of grosslings in the immediate aftermath of the Great Dying. The patients that he knew were treated with _something_ had nevertheless died — that too could be explained perhaps by neglect. He could devise explanations, but were they really explanations, or was he making excuses?

_But if there really is a cure — there would be no more Petters. If I'd been just a split-second slower — if the ax hadn't struck just before the Beast sank its teeth in —_ The mere thought made him shudder. _If there was a cure, we could have just run for it together, and he'd have gotten the cure and all would have been well. And just think! What kind of army could we put together to reclaim our homeland, if it weren't restricted to immunes!_

He was jarred from these happy imaginings by a sound.

Mikkel paused, listening. Had he heard something? Was there something behind him? He saw nothing, but his view along his backtrail was blocked by bushes. As he moved to get a better view, he heard them —

“Mikkel!” Tuuri called, and she and Reynir came into view, the kitten held forward as a propitiating offering. They were both wearing their masks, at least, Mikkel thought. “This was Reynir's idea,” Tuuri said immediately. “I tried to stop him.” And Reynir agreed hesitantly, “Y – yup, my idea.”

Mikkel was familiar with this sort of conversation, having had to tend over the years five younger siblings, a dozen younger cousins, and any number of young recruits. Rolling his eyes, he groaned, “I will never not be a babysitter.”

“Oh, you won't have to babysit us,” Tuuri assured him, “we'll just follow you around.”

He turned on his heel and stalked off, unwilling to attempt conversation. Behind him, Reynir said anxiously, “He did get angry. Now I feel bad.”

“It's okay,” Tuuri responded, “He didn't yell at us, which means we didn't cross the line.”

Mikkel _was_ angry at them. _I'm so **close!** If I give up now, I might never get another chance. And the cure **has** to be investigated! No more Petters — But there might not be a cure. I mustn't get my hopes up. Those patients were really, really dead —_

_Still, the authorities distributed **something** , and in those desperate final days, what would they have distributed but a cure? What else **mattered** at that point but a cure?_

_The children followed me in defiance of a direct order. They got themselves here in one piece; they can keep on fending for themselves. They can follow me if they insist; it's what they want. I don't have to deal with them. I will go on._

After a dozen steps his sense of duty overcame him. They were not immune and he was. It didn't matter that they'd disobeyed his orders; it wouldn't have mattered if they'd been total strangers. They were not immune and it was the duty of immunes to protect non-immunes, always.

He turned back to the other two. “All right, you're here. Tuuri, you're in charge of the kitten. If she alerts, you two yell and get behind me. If it looks like I'm losing, you run for all you're worth, and you keep running until you're back in the tank. I'd tell you to stay away from your footprints so you don't get ambushed, but if you do that you'll get lost. So you just follow your footprints back. Do you understand?”

Accepting their meek agreements, he strode away with the two young people trailing along behind him.

* * *

Crossing the bridge to the King's Gate of Kastellet Fortress, they saw it was still relatively intact, the door closed. To either side, the embankment was overgrown with tall grass — now dead and snow-covered — and volunteer trees. Mikkel pushed hard on the door and was rewarded with a creak.

“Should we just climb over the embankment?” Tuuri asked.

“Not necessary. According to the note, this fort was abandoned. I doubt anyone wasted time barricading a place they intended to leave for good.” He hoped he was right; he had not brought his crowbar.

Heaving against the door with his full weight and strength, he forced it open against its badly rusted hinges and a certain amount of debris, allowing the three to squeeze through. As soon as they were inside, he waved the others to shelter behind him while he studied the snow that lay before them.

Abundant animal tracks. Squirrels, rabbits, even a fox. Bird tracks. All this told him that there were no grosslings within; in nine decades, such would have slaughtered everything in an enclosed area including the birds. He concluded that it was safe here and forced the door closed again, as he always felt better with a barrier between him and the perilous outside world.

As they started forward, Reynir too paused to study the snow. “Ah, so many critter tracks! Is it weird that there's this many animals here?”

“Not at all. The fort is protected by water on all sides, making it a relatively safe sanctuary. At least for animals. Small immune colonies are known to thrive in spots like these. But still: don't stray!”

In their decades of isolation, the animals seemed to have largely lost their fear of man, retreating initially but then stopping to study the intruders. Later, Mikkel remembered this and could have kicked himself for being so focused on the cure that he didn't think to try hunting them. A rabbit or two would have been a welcome addition to their distasteful diet and might have served to mollify Sigrun. But that was later.

He was methodical, entering and briefly inspecting each building in turn. Most doors stood open, evidence of hasty evacuation; others he was able to force open against rust and debris. At first he found nothing at all and began to fear that it was all in vain – even if the cure existed, the departing soldiers took the evidence with them, and he would never ever know the truth.

“What exactly are we looking for?” Tuuri asked finally, tired of trailing after him in silence.

“ _We_ are not looking for anything.” He could not conceal his annoyance at their presence, and didn't especially wish to.

“Right. What are _you_ looking for.”

“An address.” He peered into the cockpit of a helicopter that stood deteriorating in the middle of the fort. _Why was it left here? It doesn't seem to have crashed — oh, fuel. It must have taken a lot and couldn't carry many people. They left on foot or in land vehicles that they could cram more into._

“Those vials were certainly not manufactured here,” he went on, leaving the helicopter to its slow dissolution, “but there must be information about their origin tucked away somewhere. If only I knew where to begin searching.”

“Medical building?” she suggested, pointing through the trees to a building with the faded remains of a giant red cross painted above the door. They were speaking Icelandic so as not to exclude Reynir but he seemed to have nothing to contribute. _At least **she's** trying to be helpful,_ Mikkel thought sourly.

Leading the way to the medical building, Mikkel was so focused on his goal that he did not even glance at the snow in front of the building. If he had — if he had noticed that not a single one of the many animal tracks criss-crossing the snow strayed within a dozen meters of the building — if he had declined to enter — the future would have turned out so very differently. And yet, who can say if it would have better in the long run?

“Stay here,” Mikkel ordered. The others had been good about staying out of his way so far, but the impulsive young woman might well rush in and disturb any clues, and he wanted to see the place exactly as it was left.

The door to the medical building stood open, half off its hinges, allowing the winter sunlight to clearly illuminate the inside. He stepped in and stopped, staggered as if by a physical blow. Not unexpectedly, the entry room was full of gurneys.

And every gurney bore a skeleton.

“Come on, let me just have a little peek,” Tuuri whined behind him. Still trying to take in this change in his expectations, he gestured her forward without looking around. “Oh. N — never mind. I'll stay.”

He didn't even notice, trying to think. _These patients are really, really dead too. The cure didn't work here either. There never **was** any cure. Why did I even let myself hope there was? Stupid!_

_But no — think about it — the cure comes into Kastellet. They start using it on their patients, and the other medics, just walking distance away, come get some and start using it on their own patients. But things are bad — the other medics are hungry, starving even if they were willing to brave the grosslings — so the soldiers here abandon their post, take their medics with them — by force even, I think — and leave their patients to their fate. The medics over there don't abandon their patients; they go out and get killed. So for the patients in **both** places, treatment started and ended at about the same time, and they were all left to freeze, or starve, or die of thirst at the same time._

_There could still be a cure. But I mustn't get my hopes up. There **might** still be a cure._

As he took a few more steps into the room, looking around for boxes of medicine, he heard Tuuri calling bossily, “Reynir! Quit playing with the birds and come here! Mikkel told you not to stray.”

“Sorry.” _It's Reynir's favorite word_ , Mikkel thought distantly. _Perhaps I should teach the boy to say it in Danish so that Sigrun can enjoy it too. Or teach Sigrun the word in Icelandic. That would work ..._ But the thoughts were only an attempt at distraction. He took another step forward.

“Reynir!”

“Right — ahhh ...”

“Never seen real skeletons before,” Tuuri observed not very sympathetically.

“Ummm, Mikkel?” Reynir's voice actually shook with fear, which seemed odd to Mikkel as the Icelander had seen skeletons just the day before. Intent on checking cabinets, he didn't even turn around.

“Can we leave? There's those shadow things in here and I don't think we like them a lot.”

_Oh, joy. Ghosts again._ “There is nothing in here, don't fret. We'll return to base soon.”

“Now?” Reynir insisted.

“No, soon.” This drawer was resisting being pulled out, squealing with the friction, but it felt a bit heavy. Maybe there was something in here, something overlooked in the evacuation. “Don't rush me. We have nothing to show for this detour yet.” The drawer was open and there was indeed a box inside, filled with vials like those used for the presumed cure. Better still, protected as it had been from light and moving air, it had a readable address. Mikkel allowed himself a rare smile.

Reynir was actually moaning in fear. “Hey, relax,” Tuuri tried to reassure him. “You don't have to be afraid. Look at kitty, she's calm.” The young man continued to moan softly.

“You can stop that now,” Mikkel told him, pushing past him in annoyance, “It's time to head back. With any luck, we'll return before Sigrun does.”

Reynir rushed out of the building past him, dragging Tuuri along as fast as he could. “So, spirits again, huh?” she asked once he allowed her to slow to a walk.

“You don't believe me,” he answered in a resigned tone. “That's okay. It's okay.”

“Oh, ah — It's not that I don't believe you. But you know — they're probably harmless. I've heard most spirits barely even notice humans.”

Mikkel didn't comment. He agreed that they were probably harmless since he didn't believe that they existed in the first place. But Lalli and Reynir had both seen something that they identified as ghosts. What had they seen?


End file.
